Page 53 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
“That gives us plenty of time to plan our attack.”
Trevor handed Mom her plate and went back around the island behind Noah, getting himself a plate. “I don’t need your help. I’m fine.”
Why did brothers always think they didn’t need other people in their lives? “Fine,” I retorted. “I’ll stay out of your girl problems if you leave my dating life alone as well.” Once my plate had the perfect ratio of berries to squares on my waffle, I took a few slices of bacon and sat next to Mom.
“I’ll think about it,” Trevor said, putting bacon on his plate.
“How’s Joy, Noah?” I asked. “Did you see her yesterday?”
“Who is Joy?” Mom asked, super interested in the conversation all of a sudden.
Noah’s cheeks reddened. “Someone I met recently. And yes, I did see her yesterday.”
“Have you talked to her again?” I asked.
Trevor chuckled. “He has.”
What did that mean, and why hadn’t Noah told me?
Noah cleared his throat. “The food is getting cold. We should just focus on eating.”
Mom chimed in. “I want to hear about this girl, Noah.”
“Another time, Aunt Dee.”
Mom’s lips pursed. “Fine.” She took a bite of food, then addressed me. “The food is delicious, Holly. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Although, Noah made the waffles this week.”
“That’s why they’re fluffier,” Noah joked.
As if. “I don’t think so.”
Noah and Trevor joined us at the table. Trevor took a giant bite, chewed slowly, then declared. “They’re right about there with yours, Hols. I think our cousin might beat you one day.”
Noah and I had an unofficial bet every brunch. I’d won more often than him, but every week he improved. Pretty soon, his donut shop might turn into a full-blown breakfast joint.
“But today is not that day,” I said after swallowing a bite of bacon. I cut off a corner of my waffle, sans berries, to taste the full flavor of Noah’s confection. The sweet, fluffy waffle was pure bliss. “You used cinnamon and sour cream, didn’t you?” He’d finally figured out what made mine so divine.
“A chef never reveals his secrets.” Noah popped a strawberry in his mouth and smiled at me while chewing his fruit.
The high chime of our doorbell rang through the air. My stomach fluttered. Rhett had come after all. Scooting back my chair, I announced, “I’ll get it.”
Trevor scrambled up from his seat and ran to the door. “I’ve got it!”
Hewasplanning on doing or saying something to Rhett about me. He was just waiting until Rhett got here.
Not. Happening.
Trevor loved to embarrass me. When my high school prom date had come to pick me up, Trevor had shown up with my baby photos blown up on a poster board, labeled in big black block letters with the question, “Won’t we make adorable babies?”
My poor date legitimately thoughtIput the display together. It had taken me all of dinner to convince him it had been my brother’s sick joke and not mine.
I raced after Trevor, pushing him into the wall right as he touched the doorknob.
“What the heck, Hols?” he grumbled, shoving me off him.
I stumbled back, my arms pinwheeling to keep me upright. Tripping over Noah’s shoes, I landed right on my butt.Ouch!An ache throbbed in my tailbone and reverberated up my spine.
